


A Day Late and a Dollar Bashert

by Lyrstzha



Series: To Make a Long Story Bashert [2]
Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Jewish Character, M/M, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romantic Soulmates, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Surprisingly canon-compliant, fantastical biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: Doctor Hank Lawson is taking the Hamptons by storm. It's just a pity that he doesn't realize he's also taking his soulmate by storm, too. But Boris still thinks that's for the best.





	A Day Late and a Dollar Bashert

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot promise that this will update quickly, but I can promise that I do have a detailed plan for where this is going. Tags, warnings, and rating will be updated as we go. Things you should know now:  
> 1) This story will make a lot less sense unless you read the first story in the series beforehand.  
> 2) The rating of this particular fic may increase sharply in later chapters, but I may just leave that for the third story in the series.  
> 3) Boris/Hank is the main pairing here, but I mean to show Jill and Marissa as important people in their lives, too. I want to honor those connections and those characters, though not in an ultimately romantic way.  
> 4) This story, like the first in the series, is meant to mesh perfectly with canon. You could do a watch-along, and I promise it would work. I mean to diverge from series canon eventually, but not for quite a while. Think fifth season.  
> 5) Just in case you are, in fact, doing a watch-along, this first chapter meshes into canon with episodes 1.2-1.6, with most integration on 1.4 and 1.6.

_“In the early days of bonding, possessive and even obsessive behaviors can sometimes manifest in soulmates, especially if there are difficulties in establishing the bond. It is important for the mental well-being of both subjects at this point to establish clear communication about any complications and to be clear about validating and committing to the bond growing between them.” – Dr. Sashi Katdare, “A Mechanistic Examination of Soulmate Bonding”_

Everyone in Boris' life, or even located in the general vicinity of it, seems to have an opinion on the presence of the Lawson boys. Admittedly, a lot of those opinions are of the Ms. Newberg variety, which is to say enthusiastically embracing. But there are some outliers.

“The elder Bryant has fired Dr. Lawson,” Galil, Boris' chief of security, informs him dourly barely a week into the summer. “No physical intervention appeared necessary during the scene.” His tone is mostly flat and unrevealing, but there is the faintest emphasis on 'appeared,' which delicately implies that he is ready to deploy such physical intervention at any time. He has obviously definitely understood at least the general tenor of Boris' sentiments, because it isn't the first time he's suggested proactive protection for Hank. If only Boris' enemies wouldn't take it as an indication of Hank's importance! And, of course, Boris is pretty certain Hank would never stand for it anyway, and it would certainly make him have awkward questions about Boris' motives.

“I see,” Boris answers frostily, and tells himself firmly that there is absolutely no need to ruin Marshall Bryant's life, particularly since he knows that Hank likes Tucker. And anyway, everyone in the Hamptons knows Marshall Bryant is doing a rather thorough job of ruining his _own_ life. “No one else has followed suit?”

Galil shakes his head. “Everyone else seems to be more inclined to follow your lead, Sir.”

Boris smiles in satisfaction. “As it should be, then. Very good.”

Galil hands over a slim report covering the last day of Hank's activities, and Boris stubbornly refuses to feel guilty about having his soulmate watched and guarded. It's for Hank's own good, after all. And it's not like he gets _hourly_ reports. 

Well. Not on regular days, anyway.

“Sir,” Dieter ventures, not quite a week later. “The younger Mr. Lawson is practicing on the tennis court. Again.” He has that particular tone that really well-trained servants all seem to master; it's absolutely neutral in inflection, yet somehow conveys an impression of mild disapproval as if by telepathic projection. He has used this tone when speaking of Evan before, but has never used it for Hank – perhaps because Dieter is well enough attuned to Boris' moods to sense that this would _not_ be welcome, though it could just as easily be because Hank does a lot less to be disapproved of _for_. Not that Boris is biased, or anything.

Boris is beginning to think it's possible that he needs to work on being more cagey about his attachment to Hank.

“Ah?” Boris looks out the window toward the court and frowns a little. “I was not planning to use it today myself. But perhaps do not make resetting the ball launcher an immediate priority.” He honestly does not care much about Evan R. Lawson using his tennis court and driving range and hot tub, though he _does_ bristle a little that the man presumes to do so without asking. He wouldn't mind if _Hank_ made himself so much at home, of course. To be honest, he'd rather like that sign of familiarity and relaxation and willingness to accept all the amenities of Shadowpond. It's probably best not to dwell on why thinking of that gives Boris such a surge of satisfaction and possessiveness.

But Evan is not Hank. And Hank's annoying brother has _also_ been spying and poking into Boris' affairs. So he doesn't feel the least bit guilty about frightening Evan into silence about his shark. 

Well. Not as long as Hank doesn't find out that he did it, anyway. Which, when Boris comes to think about it, is worrying. Is it worse if Hank finds out he has a shark in his basement, or that he menaced Evan into keeping quiet about it? He has a sinking feeling it's the latter.

And Boris really does need to check on possible signs of physical decline indicating his genetic condition is kicking in, but should he really let Hank do his physical? He wants to, but it's a guilty impulse; he can't think of another good reason to spend close time together, and he can't give up on the idea of having that time. That physical is going to be the sweetest torture.

And Hank is apparently dating Jill Casey now, not that this has anything at all to do with Boris wanting to monopolize his time.

Boris doesn't even need to call Dima to hear him laughing about that one.

 

_“It's a romantic misconception that soulmates who have found each other cannot abide being touched intimately by anyone else – in many texts, they are presented as being unable to even abide thinking about it. Personally, I blame Shakespeare, who famously used this trope to explain Romeo and Juliet's tragic fate. While it's true that it is very rare for soulmates in the real world to want such contact with anyone else, it's also true that the real world is a complicated place that is far more messy than fiction. Sometimes the situation just isn't as simple as that.” – Devesh Bandyopadhyay, PhD, “What Comes After Happily Ever After: Toward a Nuanced Understanding of Soulmate Bonds in Public Discourse”_

The Hamptons are good to Hank. Just a few weeks ago, he'd have jumped at the ER job Jill offers him, but now it seems like a step back into an old life he's shed. He's entirely in earnest when he tells her he'd rather keep going with HankMed, rather have his independence and build the kinds of connection with his patients that he never could before. But he does say yes to this sometimes-awkward sometimes-sweet chemistry he and Jill have. It's nice to think about having someone. Even if he does keep getting distracted by other things and not following through for some reason. 

The first morning after with Jill is kind of a relief; they'd been thwarted by one thing or another so many times, Hank had almost thought they'd never manage to get together like this. It's sort of like he's been needing to sneeze and finally has. Jill smells of gardenias and sunshine, and she doesn't even get irritated with him when he gets distracted by Tucker and doesn't bring her breakfast in bed as he'd said he would. 

But then at Ms. Newberg's bark mitzvah Jill denies that they're a couple. Hank feels the smile fall off his face like a bird shot out of the sky. 

“Do we really need a label?” she whispers as Ms. Newberg hushes them. She gives this little defensive shrug when she says it, and that somehow makes it more infuriating.

“Yeah, I like labels,” Hank hisses back quietly. “They let me know what things are.” Maybe he hasn't understood what's happening here at all. Maybe he should've taken all the trouble they had getting together as a sign that neither of them were prioritizing togetherness enough.

A little later, Jill tries again to broach the subject awkwardly. “Sooo...can we talk about...things?”

“Okay,” Hank says tightly, still feeling just as blindsided and angry as he did in the moment she denied being with him.

“My job isn't like yours, Hank,” Jill points out. “I deal with perception, and with a small community where people might wonder if my relationship with you could compromise my judgment.”

“Well, _does_ it compromise your judgment?” Hank asks.

“No!” Jill assures him.

Which is nice to hear, he supposes, but then what the hell is this about? Hank demands, “Okay, then who cares what people think?”

“I know I shouldn't, but I do,” Jill admits. She takes a breath and looks away with a wince. “My ex was a local doctor, too,” she says, like she's divulging a guilty secret that explains everything.

But Hank still has no idea what she's getting at. “So he's a doctor, I'm a doctor. That doesn't make me him.” Have they always talked at cross-purposes like this, and he somehow never noticed?

“But _I'm_ the same person,” Jill insists. “Making good professional choices and bad personal ones and paying the price for it. And at some point I may just need to learn from my mistakes.”

Hank goes even tenser. “Oh, okay, so now we're a mistake?” He knows his tone is getting brittle and more vulnerable than he'd like, but he can't seem to stop it.

“No!” Jill stops him. “It's...it's a long story, and we don't have time for long stories right now.”

“Okay, so what are you saying?” Hank demands. 

“For now,” she tells him earnestly, “I'd just like to keep us between us.”

But then everything goes to hell and Hank has to go be professional before he can really tell Jill how he feels about that idea. He's not even sure how he would have explained anyway, since he hasn't really told Jill about Nikki yet. He can't imagine explaining how much he doesn't want to feel like he's with someone who's ashamed to be with him again without his experience with Nikki as context.

He's just stepping outside of Ms. Newberg's house to usher the quarantined party guests out toward the proper antibiotics when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Hank fishes it out and glances down, still waving people forward with his other hand.

 _I would like to schedule a full physical for this coming Friday morning_ , it reads. Barely an instant later, a second text follows: _If you have no more pressing medical emergencies then, of course._ Hank can almost hear Boris' voice behind the words, arch and slightly teasing maybe, but trying to be just a bit self-deprecating in the second line. It's weirdly charming. And it's also even kind of flattering that Boris is apparently scheduling this himself instead of having Dieter handle it.

Hank finds himself smiling. _Friday morning it is_ , he texts. _I'll try to avoid medical emergencies just for you._

 _Ah, special treatment at last_ , Boris texts back immediately, and Hank can even hear the gentle teasing deepen into wry playfulness. He laughs aloud before he can stop himself, startling the party guests walking past him. They turn to look at him oddly, and he just doesn't care at all. _8am?_

 _8am is fine._ And it is, in fact, exactly perfect for Hank's preferred morning routine, but Boris can't possibly know that. It's just that they're both early risers, probably, who both like a light breakfast and some cardio around the same time. _It's a date._

A long moment passes, but Hank is still staring at his phone as if there's going to be more. Why should there be, though? There really isn't anything more to say. Just as he gives himself a little shake and starts to slide it back into his pocket, it buzzes again.

 _I shall expect you on Friday at 8, then, barring any other engagements that may arise._ It feels weirdly stiff and formal, and not like the last message at all.

Hank feels his smile melt away abruptly for the second time that day. He frowns and hesitates, but what would he answer? Did he say something wrong? He reluctantly shrugs it off, puts his phone back in his pocket, and returns to the business of getting people the appropriate treatment. It's been an unsettling day, and he's probably just imagining things. That's all it is. Maybe making up with Jill will make him feel less disconcerted.


End file.
